


Reflections And Memories

by thatchoirperson



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, M/M, Modern AU, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatchoirperson/pseuds/thatchoirperson
Summary: Race's speech at Spot's memorial.





	Reflections And Memories

Race took a shaky breath, not wanting to close his eyes in case a tear would squeeze its way out onto his face in front of everyone. Not yet.   
“Most of you guys know I’m not good with words. I never have been.”  
He shuffled his feet awkwardly, though his posture stayed stiff and straight, how it always was.   
“Spot never minded.”  
Upon saying Spot’s name, Race’s voice broke. He let out an involuntary heaving sob before continuing, grasping the podium with both hands to brace himself.   
“Right now I hear him telling me that it’s okay. ‘Just dance it out, Higgins.’”  
A few feeble laughs came from the audience. Race gave a weak smile.   
“I’ll get to that in a bit.”  
More laughter, a bit stronger this time.   
“But first I’m gonna talk.  
“Sp- he was one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”  
Deep breaths, Race.   
“And I miss him so damn much. God, it’s only been a week and a half and I can’t say his name without crying. The past tense just makes it worse.”  
Breathe.   
“Spot loved music and dance and his friends and this fucking city and-” He paused, catching his breath and wiping a stray tear off his cheek. “-and I can’t believe he’d-”  
Footsteps. A hand on his back. Race turned his head to see Davey standing behind him. Davey nodded once. “It’s okay, Race.”  
Deep breaths. Race grabbed Davey’s hand, swallowed, and went on.   
“None of us had any idea. I just wish he’d talked to me or at least one of you. And I know any of you would’ve helped him.”  
He blinked back a tear.   
“I remember the day I met him. I was six and he was seven. It was our first ballet class. He was better than me. A few days later was jazz. He was still better than me. Then tap. It was the only style of dance I was ever better than him at. I remember not having an actual conversation with him until halfway through that year. I also remember overhearing the girls talking about how cute he was. And agreeing. Silently, of course.  
“We became better friends when I was eight. We were the only boys at the studio. I guess something was bound to happen, and evidently it did.   
“Ever since he was a little kid, he was intriguing. He might’ve come off as arrogant or insensitive, but he was never like that to me. He was always loving and kind and sweet. And we bonded through dance and the vulnerability that gave us.”  
Pause.   
“I think it’s time to finish this speech the way Spot would tell me to before I break down too much.”  
Davey let go of his hand, enveloping Race in a quick hug before leaving the stage, taking the podium with him. Race slipped off his shoes and socks, nodding to cue the music.   
There was no choreography, no planning. Just Race onstage, dancing with Spot and for Spot just as they’d done a million times before.


End file.
